My birth mom died in childbirth trying to have a baby boy, and not even two months had passed before Grandma Annie brought my stepmom Monica into the house. I thought Monica would give me a baby brother, but it turned out she couldn’t have children. Grandma Annie forced her to divorce my dad. As Monica was packing up to leave with nothing but her clothes, she suddenly asked me, “Do you want to come with me?” My mom, Lucy, was the typical traditional woman from a rural area. She was simple, hardworking, and a little naive. Since childhood, she had been bossed around by her family, and after marrying into my dad’s family, she continued to serve others. She didn’t really like me. To her, I was a constant reminder of her failure. She couldn’t give birth to a boy. After I was born, there were no special meals for her, no eggs, no sugar. Grandma Annie didn’t care, and Dad, Robert, was always away. Mom didn’t blame them, though; instead, she constantly blamed me for not being a boy. Being a girl was the biggest mistake in her eyes, the reason why she could never hold her head up. Her unhappiness became my burden to carry. One time, Dad bought a beautiful dress from the city, the nicest I had ever seen, with butterflies embroidered on it. It was clean and bright. Grandma Annie took one look at it and her face dropped, “What’s a girl need with new clothes?” I never had new clothes. I only wore hand-me-downs from aunts or cousins. A few days later, on New Year’s Day, I saw that very dress on the neighbor’s little girl. “It looks so pretty on her,” I heard Grandma Annie say while counting some money. “I even bargained for a few extra bucks. Now we can buy more meat.” Mom, Lucy, stared at the cash in Grandma’s hand and nodded in agreement. “Exactly. What’s a dead weight like her doing in such fancy clothes? She’s no princess.” In the end, I didn’t get to wear that dress or taste the extra meat that was bought. Dad looked at me, then at the meat in his bowl, sighed, but said nothing. He had no son and was the talk of the town. He could only blame me for that. At dinner, Grandma Annie, chewing on her food, pointed at Mom and said, “If you don’t give us a grandson this year, you’re out of here.” Mom, embarrassed, smiled awkwardly and agreed. After a few months, she got pregnant again. Her belly was pointed, and Mrs. Wilson, who had two sons, told us it must be a boy. Grandma Annie was overjoyed. That very day, she killed a chicken and made a pot of rich soup for Mom. She pulled up a stool, sat by Mom’s side, and stared at her belly. “Lucy, you better take care of yourself and that baby. My precious grandson needs to be born healthy.” While watching, Grandma glanced at me sweeping in the corner and asked, “Do you think your mom’s having a boy, Erin?” I nervously nodded, feeling uncomfortable with Grandma calling me by my name. “Yeah, it’s a brother. I even dreamed about playing with him yesterday.” Grandma’s face lit up, and she went to the kitchen to fetch me an egg. “After he’s born, you better not fight with him over anything, understand?” I ate the first egg of my life. It was so delicious. Is this what my brother would get to eat every day? Grandma even gave Mom money for a checkup. They took the early bus to the nearest town, rattling all the way there. After the checkup, the doctor frowned, giving me a once-over. “This girl is malnourished. You should feed her better.” Mom tugged me away. “We don’t have much money. She’s a girl. She’ll be married off anyway. It’s a waste.” Back home, Grandma Annie cut another piece of pork just for Mom. I stared at it, drooling. With my chipped bowl filled with nothing but cabbage, I tilted my head up and asked, “Is my brother coming next month? I can’t wait to play with him.” Grandma smiled, adding a few pieces of meat to my bowl. “Soon, Erin. You’ll get to play with him very soon.” The day we’d all been waiting for came, and Grandma called the best midwife from the village. She boiled a big pot of water early that morning. But then things took a turn. They say the first baby is hard to deliver, but after that, it’s supposed to be easier. Not for my mom. She had been struggling in labor for five hours, and my baby brother just wouldn’t come out. The midwife said it was a dangerous delivery and could take a while. Grandma Annie paced outside, anxiously asking for updates every few minutes. Bowl after bowl of bloody water was carried out of the room, and the midwife finally came out with a grim expression. “It’s critical. We need to decide who to save—the mother or the child.” Grandma Annie cursed under her breath, blaming my mom for not protecting her precious grandson. “It’s got to be my grandson! You have to save him!” A while later, the house fell silent. My mom had stopped screaming, and there was no newborn cry either. The midwife came out and told Grandma that the baby was stillborn. Mom hadn’t survived either. Grandma Annie collapsed in loud, uncontrollable sobs, and Dad, who had just returned, silently smoked a cigarette. A few days later, they buried my mom and my brother in a small coffin. Within half a year, Grandma Annie brought Monica into our home.
Monica was from out of town. She didn’t have any family and was working alone around here. Dad, Robert, gave her some money and quickly arranged a small wedding. Monica didn’t seem to like me much. She had a stern face like Lucy, and she wouldn’t let me touch her things. But at least she didn’t lash out at me like Lucy did when she was in a bad mood, looking for reasons to yell at me. Shortly after the wedding, Monica and Dad left to work, leaving Grandma Annie and me to take care of the empty house. The eggs from our chickens? I never saw them. I went to school on nothing but thin cabbage soup. Every morning, though, Grandma Annie would cook an egg—for Jacob, my cousin, who was the same age as me. He never ate it right away. He’d bring it to school and wave it in front of me, savoring every bite. “Your family’s eggs are the best, Erin.” Jacob was in my class and was a troublemaker. He either threatened me into doing his homework or broke his pencils and used mine. One day, I chased him home from school. He hid behind Grandma. “Grandma! Erin’s bullying me!” Grandma’s face turned cold as she patted Jacob on the head. “Erin, don’t bully your cousin. You’re the older one.” But I was only two months older than him. I wanted to explain, but the words were stuck in my throat like fish bones. Grandma didn’t care. She led Jacob to the kitchen with a smile. “Come on, sweetheart. Have another egg so you can grow up to be important.” After dinner, I approached Grandma and said, “Grandma, Jacob broke my pencil. Can I buy a new one?” Grandma frowned and scolded me. “Still holding on to that? Now you’re asking for things too? What does a girl need with all that schooling anyway?” The next day, Jacob showed off a new pencil, bragging, “I told Grandma, and she bought me this one. It’s expensive! You could buy ten cheap ones with this.” I ignored him, carefully pulling out the “pencil” I had found last night—it was actually Monica’s eyebrow pencil, but it would do. As I traced my name on the paper, I could hear Jacob’s mocking laughter. It made me wonder, why did everyone have high hopes for Jacob, who was always at the bottom of the class? And why didn’t anyone care about a girl like me who was top of the class? I lowered my head, too afraid to meet her eyes, nervously twisting the hem of my shirt. “I didn’t have a pencil… so I used it to write… I’m sorry.” The moment I finished speaking, I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the punishment I was sure would come. I expected her to yell or hit me, but instead, she sighed. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a few pencils. “Don’t use my makeup for that anymore. Here, take these.” I held the pencils in disbelief, my mouth slightly open. I remembered how Grandma Annie always said I should respect Monica. “Thank you, Mom.” The word “Mom” felt strange coming from my mouth. Monica didn’t smile, though. She scolded me instead. “I’m not your mother. Focus on your studies. Go out there and see the world. Understand?” I thought about it for a moment, then went to my room and brought out my collection of bright red certificates. I handed them to her. The cold look on her face softened a bit as she placed the certificates at the bottom of a wooden box and fished out a few candies for me. “This is more like it. I’m not your real mom, Erin. You have to rely on yourself, okay?” I nodded, not fully understanding, but the sweet taste of the candy filled my mouth, a rare treat.
On New Year’s Day, while we were eating dinner, Grandma Annie began pressuring Monica to have a son. “You’d better not end up like Lucy, with no luck and only a worthless girl to show for it.” Monica barely looked up from her food, pretending not to hear. Grandma didn’t give up. She turned her attention to Dad. “Look at you, Robert. You can’t even hold your head up because of that girl.” She set down her bowl and started yelling at me. “What good is raising a daughter? She’s just going to belong to someone else eventually.” I stayed silent, stirring my food without looking up. “Mom, we’re eating,” Dad tried to defend me. Grandma’s face turned sour, and she started rehashing old grievances. “If you’re still kneeling outside the family shrine next year, don’t you dare come crying to me.” In our town, families without sons weren’t allowed to participate in the ancestral rites. After the New Year, Monica and Dad decided to stay for a few months to help with the busy season on the farm. Grandma Annie made it clear that she was expecting Monica to get pregnant soon. Our daily routine didn’t change much, except Monica would sneak me a few candies whenever I won an award at school. Meanwhile, Grandma would head to Monica’s room every day, pressing her about having a child. I thought this would all end once Monica got pregnant. I was even excited, hoping I’d finally get a baby brother and that Monica would become my real mom. But one afternoon, while I was walking home from school, I heard Grandma wailing from a distance. “You’re trying to end the family line!” Grandma was sitting on the ground, crying and pointing at Monica, who stood there, helpless. Dad was trying to calm Grandma down while the neighbors gathered around, whispering to each other. It turned out that Monica couldn’t have children. A local herbal doctor had visited the village, and Grandma, eager for a solution, brought him some eggs to see if he could help. After taking Monica’s pulse, the doctor shook his head and told Grandma that Monica had a cold womb and probably wouldn’t ever have kids. Grandma, furious, threw a fit, demanding that Dad divorce Monica. “It’s bad enough that you gave us a useless girl! Now you want to stay married to a woman who can’t even have kids?” Lindsay, my cousin’s wife, was watching the drama unfold. She whispered to Mrs. Wilson, “Robert has the worst luck. First, his wife dies, and now this one can’t have kids either.” After a day of arguments and pressure from the neighbors, Dad finally gave in and agreed to talk to Monica. That night, I listened from the other room, the dim candlelight casting shadows on the walls. I couldn’t see their faces, but I could hear the sadness in their voices. “We should get a divorce. It’s my fault,” Dad said, his voice shaking as he pulled out their marriage certificate. Monica stayed quiet for a moment before taking the certificate. “You promised me a home.” Dad clenched his jaw, pulling out a stack of cash from a drawer and placing it neatly on the table in front of her. “It’s my fault, but I need a son. You know how my mom is.” Monica didn’t take the money. She started packing her things instead. “We’ll go to the city tomorrow and finalize the divorce. Keep the money. Buy something for your daughter.” I stood by the door, gripping the broom tightly, my heart heavy with fear and a strange sense of sadness. “Is Monica really leaving?” I thought to myself. There would be no more candies when I did well in school, no more small gestures of kindness, and no more soft-boiled eggs waiting for me at the bottom of my soup bowl. Monica stepped outside to take down the laundry. She saw me standing there and, for the first time, smiled at me. She walked over and handed me a small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. “Do you want to come with me?” she asked. I didn’t know what to say, my hands tightening around the broom handle. “I… I don’t know.” She didn’t seem upset. Instead, her smile grew warmer. “Call me if you change your mind. And make sure you keep studying.” The next morning, before the sun had risen, Monica left the house with her few belongings. She and Dad went to the city to finalize the divorce. I slipped that small piece of paper into my book, hiding it away. No one else could know about it.
A few months passed, and Grandma Annie found Dad a new wife. She had been married before and came with a daughter who was older than me. I was expected to call her “Maya.” Grandma liked her because “she’s got good childbearing hips.” The day after the wedding, Maya handed me a pile of clothes and told me to wash them in the river. The ice on the river had just melted, and the water was freezing cold. Carrying a wooden bucket nearly as big as me, I dragged it step by step to the riverbank. Sometimes, the holes I made in the ice would freeze over again, and I’d have to break them open with a hammer, plunging my numb hands back into the icy water. By the time I hauled the bucket back home, my hands were raw and shaking. Maya looked over the clothes and scoffed. “You’re old enough to know how to wash clothes. You want my mom to do it for you?” The new stepmom, Sarah, soon had a baby boy—Jimmy. Grandma, who didn’t care much for Maya before, now tolerated her bullying me. Maya became bolder, bossing me around and treating me however she pleased. Dad was thrilled to have a son and spent most of his time in the city working, leaving me to fend for myself. I was forced to move into a drafty shack outside, while Maya took over the warm, spacious side room. Sarah didn’t like me either. She’d bark orders while holding Jimmy in her arms, and when I didn’t move fast enough, she’d pinch me. Grandma Annie’s world revolved around her precious grandson now. To her, girls were worthless. “Erin, don’t provoke your mom. You know how bad her temper is.” Every night, after washing the dishes for the whole family, I would crawl into my creaky little bed, feeling the cold wind blow through the cracks in the walls. I missed Monica and the candies and soft eggs she used to give me. The year I graduated from elementary school, I got accepted into a middle school in the city. But the tuition was expensive. Maya’s grades were terrible, and she barely managed to get into the worst high school. Jealous, she would complain to Sarah. “Mom, Erin’s tuition is so expensive. We should save that money for Jimmy.” With Maya constantly whispering in their ears, Grandma and Sarah planned to send me to the worst middle school nearby, keeping the money for Jimmy. I wasn’t ready to give up. One night, I sat next to Dad and pleaded with him. “Dad, I want to go to the city for middle school. I promise I’ll make you proud.” Dad looked into my eyes but didn’t say anything. Later that night, I overheard them arguing. Sarah’s sharp voice cut through the thin walls. “It’s a hundred bucks a semester! Why not save that for Jimmy? He’s your son.” “But she’s got potential. I think she could do something with her life.” “She’s a girl, Robert! She’s going to marry off eventually. Have you forgotten that?” Dad’s voice grew quieter. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” The next morning, after breakfast, Dad stood in front of me. “Erin, we don’t have the money. Any school is a good school.” I don’t know how I managed to stay calm. I just said, “Okay.” As Dad walked away, Maya grinned at me, her eyes full of mockery. “What happened to our little genius? Not going to the top middle school anymore?” I ignored her, clutching the small piece of paper Monica had given me. I ran to the town office, pretending I needed to make a call to the school. My heart raced as I dialed Monica’s number. When I heard her voice on the other end, I felt my eyes fill with tears. “I’ve made up my mind. I want to go with you.” The next day, Monica appeared at the entrance of the village, looking just as I remembered. I led her straight to my dad. He was stunned. “What are you doing here?” “I’ve decided to adopt Erin.” Dad hadn’t expected this. He sounded defeated as he asked, “Why?” “She wants to go to the top middle school, and I’m willing to take her.” Grandma Annie heard the commotion and came running, holding Jimmy in her arms. Her sharp voice pierced the air, “I raised her, and she’s worth a lot in dowry money. You can’t just take her!”
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